


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Pre-Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dreams, Episode 45 Spoilers, Kinda, Multi, Sabian is a POS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: Five dreams Fjord has had over the years.





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Boy oh boy, this entire story is based around an idea I had a few months ago. But I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to actually make it work within a story, but tonight I got inspired and I figured this is as good of a plot as any to actually fit it in. The Pre-OT3 thing was a happy accident, but I've been teetering on the edge of shipping Fjord/Jester/Caleb for a while, so I'm not even surprised I went this far. Not sure if I'll actually doing it again anytime soon, but enjoy this if you'd like.
> 
> Thanks for reading and if you get the chance drop me a comment :)

**Daydream**

Fjord storms upstairs to his room, small hands balled into fists, tears clinging to his eyelashes and blurring his vision. He can still hear the other kids laughing at him, Sabian’s parting words echoing loudly in his ears: “ _Are you running back to your friends, Orcless? Wait, what am I saying, you don’t have any friends!”_

He slams his bedroom door behind him, furiously pacing across the floor. He kicks at his rickety desk, hissing when a spike of pain darts up his foot, and he plops himself down onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling.

 _Stupid Sabian,_ Fjord thinks, rubbing the tears from his eyes. _He’s not that smart and the other kids only pretend to be his friend because they’re scared of him._

He hears a bell chime from his open window and Fjord sits up, looking out at the ocean. He sees a ship being tied to the dock, a big, burly man lowering the plank so the rest of the crew can get off the boat.

He stands up, moving towards his window, watching as the captain steps off the ship first. He’s wearing shabby leathers, an even shabbier overcoat over his shoulders, and has a short sword strapped to his side. He pulls his long, windswept hair back into a messy ponytail, tying it off with a piece of string, and strides towards the dock hand.

Fascinated, Fjord watches the two men talk, imaging himself down there, standing where the captain is, double checking he has the correct port and making sure he brought the right cargo, while the rest of his crew do their jobs to ensure the boat doesn’t stray out into the ocean. They’d all respect him and they’d be his friends and stupid Sabian can’t join his crew because no bullies would be allowed.

He tries to smile, but he can’t quite manage it; an overwhelming feeling of loneliness makes his chest hurt. He forces himself to look away from the window.

* * *

**Vivid Dream**

Fjord meets Jester and immediately he likes having her around. She’s chaotic and mischievous; friendly and loquacious; a ray of sunshine in the month long hell he’s been living in since Sabian blew up Vandren’s ship, killing most of the crew and most likely Vandren, too.

Fjord can’t remember much directly after the explosion, but he can vividly recall waking up on the beach with a mysterious sword laying next to his head and abilities he knows he didn’t have before. It scares him, but he’s hoping the academy can shed some light on what’s happening to him.

“Fjord! Are you okay sharing a room?” Jester calls from across the tavern, her change purse rattling as she shakes out some coins. He’s tried paying for stuff, feeling guilty for taking her gold, but Jester has insisted on paying. Fjord plans to pay her back when he can; _if_  he can make any money.

“Yeah,” he calls back, nursing his third pint of mead. He’s been working on shedding his old accent, figuring he’d get further if he tried sounding a bit more like Vandren, but he hasn’t had a lot of luck lately. He’s going to keep trying.

Jester returns to the table, setting a glass of milk down, and smiles at Fjord. “I like the new accent,” she says softly.

“It’s somethin’ I’m tryin’,” he responds, his cheeks warming with a faint flush. He’s still not used to getting compliments, could hardly accept them when barmaids would tell him he had a pretty face. It didn’t help that Sabian had always been around to remind him he was nothing more than _Orcless the Terrible._

 _"What, you think since people think you’re handsome now you’ve stopped being Orcless? Get over yourself, Fjord.”_ Fjord can’t wait to see Sabian again just so he can punch him right in the face. Maybe shove his falchion through his gut for good measure.

They head upstairs not long after, Jester taking the bed closest to the door without an argument. She falls asleep quickly, curled onto her side in a tight ball, breathing slow and even. Fjord takes a bit, staring at the ceiling, one arm bent behind his head. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax, and he eventually dozes off.

_He finds himself standing on the deck of The Tide’s Breath, crew members bustling around him, getting ready for the oncoming storm. Vandren barks orders from the bow, standing next to the helm. He spots Fjord and beckons him over, moving away from the navigator after a quiet word._

_Fjord meets Vandren halfway, towering over him, but still feeling small compared to him; like a child greeting his father._

_“This storm looks like it’s gonna be harsh,” Vandren says in his thick drawl, running a hand through his graying hair. “Might have to move the crew down below if it gets too bad.”_

_“Do you think that’s wise?” Fjord asks curiously, knowing he’s one of only a few who can talk so candidly to Vandren._

_Vandren doesn’t respond, his eyes tracking something in the distance. Fjord follows his gaze, his eyes settling on Sabian lurking near the stern of the ship, and suddenly everything seems familiar. This happened before; he’s dreaming._

_“Vandren…” Fjord says, turning back to his captain, but he’s morphed into Sabian, holding a burning stick of dynamite, a oily smile on his handsome face._

_“What’s the matter, Orcless? Afraid of a little fire?"_

_Fjord tries to grab him, but the dynamite goes off and hurtles him off the ship and into the ocean…_

Fjord jerks awake, coughing loudly, his mouth dry. The taste of seawater lingers in the back of his throat, but he knows that’s left over from his dream. He sits up, breathing heavily, jumping when he sees a shape move towards him, a small, hysterical laugh bursting forth when he realizes it’s just Jester.

“Are you okay, Fjord?” she asks worriedly, perching on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah,” Fjord answers softly, his smile pale and brittle. “Just a, just a bad dream is all. I’m fine.”

* * *

**Good Dream**

Molly is loud and flamboyant, but also generous. He’s been supplying the entire tavern with drinks all night, his coin purse getting lighter and lighter the more he drinks, and Fjord eventually has to tell him to slow down otherwise he’ll find himself in the same boat as Caleb.

“Nonsense, I know what I’m doing,” Molly exclaims but allows Fjord to help him up the stairs. He turns around, addressing the remaining bar patrons with a flourish of his wrist. “Good night, you fine, beautiful people.” He blows them a kiss, bowing when a few people clap, pretending to catch the kisses that two half-elf women give him in return.

“I like these people,” Molly says with a broad grin, his piercings and sequins jingling as he moves, his blue coat falling off one shoulder.

“And I’m sure they like you, too,” Fjord responds, fixing Molly’s coat. “Or, ya know, at least your money.”

Molly waves an unconcerned hand. “You can’t take it with you when you go.”

“Are you plannin’ on dyin’ anytime soon?” Fjord asks with a flippant smile.

“Nothing can kill me!” Molly shouts with a joyous laugh. “I am invincible!”

“Okay, Mister Invincible, tell yourself that in the mornin’ when you're nursin’ that hangover.”

He helps Molly get into bed, chuckling softly at his blatant attempts at flirting. When Molly suggests they just share a bed, Fjord’s face flushes and he slowly shakes his head, patting the side of Molly’s face.

“You’re pretty, but not my type,” he says casually, moving across the room.

“Did you just call me pretty?” Molly asks curiously, his eyes drooping as sleep rapidly claims him.

“G’night, Molly.”

“Spoilsport.”

Fjord snorts, shaking his head, and starts getting ready for bed. He falls asleep quickly tonight, the room nice and warm, his belly full of mead, the knowledge that his friends are safe and asleep in their own rooms giving him no reason to worry.

_He’s sitting in the back of the cart, Jester to his left, Caleb to his right, their shoulders pressed together. Jester chats animatedly to Beau and Nott, both sitting up front and manning the horses. Molly is sitting in the back, his legs hanging off the cart, leaning back on his hands, shouting amiably to Yasha as she follows along on a horse._

_Caleb turns a page in his book, humming softly to himself, and Fjord has to admit it’s a catchy tune. He knows it’s going to be stuck in his head, but he can’t find it in him to care._

_It’s a nice day, the sun is high in the sky, the sky itself cloudless and a light blue. He’s not sure where they’re heading, but he trusts Nott and Beau know the way. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes, enjoying the warmth on his face. He’s never felt more at peace than he does right this second._

When he wakes, hours later, Molly is still asleep, tangled up in his sheets, hair a complete mess. Fjord smiles, shaking his head, and gets up for the day. As he starts to get dressed, he finds himself humming the song Dream Caleb had been humming.

It’s going to be a good day.

* * *

**Nightmare**

_The front of Fjord’s armor is covered in blood. Panicked, he looks up, calling out to his friends. He stumbles forward, fog slowly rolling in and impairing his vision. He trips on something, slamming chest first into the dirt. Coughing, he rolls over, shouting in surprise when he finds Jester laying motionless on the ground, her eyes wide open and glassy. He scrambles to his feet, shaking his head frantically, slowly moving towards her, but it’s obvious she’s dead._

_“No,” he whispers, fingers shaking as he reaches out to her. He curls his hand into a fist, backing up, his breath hitching._

_Fjord hears a strangled scream come from behind him and he turns, running towards it. He sees two dark figures struggling in the densest part of the fog, the taller of the two lifting the smaller one from the ground, their legs kicking desperately._

_Fjord tries to call out, but the words stick in his throat. He tries again, but he still can’t make a sound. Frustrated, he attempts to run forward, but his legs won’t cooperate. Helpless, he watches as the smaller figure goes still, slumping in the taller figure’s arms._

_The taller figure throws their victim to the ground, kicking them out of their way. Another cry, this one hoarse, anguished, echoes through the air and Fjord watches as a flash of fire hits the tall figure, sending them back a step. A third figure bursts free from the fog, sending another flash of fire at the second figure, but this one misses, disappearing into the fog._

_“Why?” the third figure demands, and Fjord recognizes the voice immediately. “What did any of them ever do to you?”_

_The second figure doesn’t respond, a blade appearing in his hand. He moves forward, slashing towards Caleb, and Fjord’s heart clenches in his chest when he watches his friend crumple to the ground._

_The fog clears suddenly, leaving Fjord standing in a field, surrounded by his friends. None are moving, Beau the closest, her throat sliced open, and Fjord chokes on a sob._

_He looks towards his friends’ attacker, a strangled cry leaving his throat when he finds himself staring back at him, a twisted smile on his face._

_“I think that’s enough, friend,” a soft, lyrical voice says in his ear, a hand gripping his shoulder, and everything goes white._

Fjord gasps awake, sitting up, relief flooding through him when he doesn’t find any blood. He holds his head in his hands, breathing heavily, trying to get his shaking under control. He looks up suddenly, counting heads, finding each of his friends sleeping soundly with the exception of Caleb. He's sitting against the wall of his dome, book and paper laying abandoned next to him as he watches Fjord with barely concealed concern in his blue eyes.

“Are you well?” he asks carefully, and Fjord’s natural response is to nod, pretend everything is fine, but his brain doesn’t quite get the message and he shrugs instead.

With a small, sympathetic smile, Caleb gestures to the spot next to him and murmurs, “Would you like to sit up with me for a bit. We don’t, uh, we don’t have to talk. Just sit.”

“I’d, I’d like that.” Fjord slowly gets up, moving carefully around his friends, and sits down next to Caleb. “What are you wokin’ on?”

“Just some transcribing,” Caleb responds, picking up his book and paper. “Future spells I’d like to try at some point...” he trails off, hunching his shoulders, and Fjord nods in understanding. “I quite like this kind of work. It’s relaxing.”

“I bet.”

They settle into a comfortable silence, Caleb slowly transcribing his spells, Fjord transitioning between watching Caleb and doodling in the dirt. He thinks about Molly, the first person since he met Jester that he allowed himself to trust, and he wonders, had Molly been here instead of Caleb, would he have told him about his time with The Iron Shepherds. He suddenly feels guilty; losing Molly hurt a lot, he can’t imagine losing someone else right now.

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” he blurts out, immediately regretting it but knowing he can’t take it back now. “Jester and Yasha I figured you’d get back, but me…” he hunches in on himself, shame heavy in his stomach.

Caleb’s quill stills and he softly says, “Why?”

Fjord shrugs, picking at one of his tusks. It’s small, barely poking out of his gum, but he still has the overwhelming need to dig it out. He’s fighting the urge.

“You are,” Caleb trails off, drawing in a slow breath. He lets it out, closing his book, setting it aside so he can turn and face Fjord. “You are our friend. Of course we came for you.”

Fjord nods, drawing his hand away from his mouth and resting it with the other in his lap. He sees Caleb hesitate for a brief second before reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

He releases him a few second later and gestures to his book. “Would you like to see some of my spells? I’m not sure if they’re, you know, your specialty, but there might be something you can use.”

With a pale smile, Fjord dips his head and says, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

* * *

**Fevered Dream**

The arrow sinks into his side, and Fjord hisses, pulling it out. He turns towards the man who shot him, sneering at him, watching as his face turns a deathly white. That’s what he thought; coward. Fjord darts forward, ducking another arrow, and strikes the man down where he stands.

“Don’t fuck with us,” he says, yanking his sword free, turning to see Beau take out the last bandit. She turns to Yasha, the closest of the Nein, and holds her hand, silently asking for a high five. To her surprise, and Fjord’s, Yasha smiles and slaps her hand.

Caduceus helps Caleb up, one hand already glowing a nice, golden color as he heals the cut above his eyebrow. Nott darts from body to body, collecting what she can, while Jester moves towards Beau to heal a dagger wound that she hadn’t noticed during the fight.

It’s nice to have a normal enemy for once; if Fjord doesn’t see another fish person it won’t be any skin off his back.

“Alright, let’s head back, get somethin’ to eat,” he says to the others once he knows they’re all fit to walk back to town. He brushes off Jester and Caduceus’ attempts to heal him, knowing the arrow wound isn’t worth the magic; he’s had worse papercuts.

He starts to regret that decision when they eventually make it back to the tavern. Everything is hot, and he all but stumbles towards the table, dropping down onto the bench with a loud groan. He leans forward resting his head on the table, jumping when a cool hand touches the back of his neck.

“You are burning up,” Jester says and Fjord can practically hear the frown in her voice.

“‘M not,” Fjord grumbles, trying to pick his head up to brush her hand aside, but he can’t find the strength. He feels the familiar warmth of healing magic ripple through him, but other than the gash in his side closing up he doesn’t feel any better.

He hears Caleb mention something about poison, Beau swearing sharply under her breath, and then he loses some time. He becomes aware of someone carrying him, but he can’t focus long enough to see who exactly it is, and he hears someone murmuring near his head but he can’t make out the words. He loses more time.

_He’s standing in a bubble. No, wait, this is Caleb’s dome. Maybe. Where is he?_

_He hears someone pounding away on a piano, and he turns to see Jester sitting on a floating, green cloud, the piano hovering in front of her. Nott circles her head, a bubble encased around her, and she starts singing a shrill, loud song but Fjord can’t understand the lyrics._

_Caleb moves past Fjord, dancing in slow circles, but he doesn’t look like Caleb. He looks more like Frumpkin; standing on his hind legs and Caleb sized. Beau darts into the dome after him, violently punching the air; at least Fjord thinks she’s Beau. Has she always been a bear?_

_Yasha braids flowers into Caduceus’ hair, her deft fingers twisting the pink strands while Caduceus, looking more like a cow than usual, starts singing along with Nott. It’s weird; Fjord doesn’t like this._

His eyes snap open, but he’s not sure where he is. Bear Beau lingers over him, telling him he’s been poisoned while Cat Caleb hovers over her shoulder, looking worried. He hears something skitter near his head and Nott appears in his line of sight, still encased in her bubble, and places something cool and wet against his forehead.

“Jester and Mister Clay went to get herbs,” Nott tells him, her bubble turning blue when she speaks.

“Why the bubble?” Fjord hears himself say, Nott giving him a confused look, and he loses more time.

_Molly stands next to a black door, a peacock in an ostentatious blue coat, and he raps one of his talons against the wood. He takes a step back when no one answers, turning to Fjord, and lets out a loud squawk._

_“What? I can’t-”_

_Molly squawks again, loud and angry, and turns back to the door. Fjord moves forward, somehow knowing that if can just touch Molly he might be able to understand what he’s saying, but as soon as his fingers graze his soft, purple feathers Molly turns to dust._

_“MOLLY!”_

Fjord wakes with a choked sob and Cat Caleb appears in his line of sight, worried and orange, replacing the warm cloth on his forehead with a cooler one. His cold fingers linger on Fjord’s cheek and he whispers, “You will be fine. We are working to make you better.”

“Where’s? Where’s Molly?” Fjord tries to sit up, but Caleb easily pushes him back, keeping him down with a hand on his chest.

“Fjord, you know… you know where he is,” Caleb murmurs and Fjord squeezes his eyes shut. He knows; of course he knows. He loses more time.

_He’s standing in Dashilla’s lair, and Caleb, real, human Caleb, studies the altar sitting in the middle of the room. Fjord looks around, expecting to see the others, but he and Caleb are alone. Why are they alone?_

_“A blood pact is a bit excessive, don’t you think?” Caleb says, but he doesn’t sound like Caleb. He sounds a lot like Molly._

_“Molly?”_

_“Perhaps.” Caleb turns, giving Fjord a very Molly-like smirk, and gestures to the altar. “You really shouldn’t fuck around with blood magic, Fjord. Who knows what you might summon.” Molly-Caleb turns back to the altar, slicing his palm open with a jagged dagger that appears in his other hand. He touches the altar. “Oh well, maybe I’ll get a blood pact out of this, too.”_

_“Molly wait.” Fjord reaches out just as the room turns black._

Jester is fretting above him when he comes to, bright and blue. He reaches out, convinced she’s not real, startling himself when his hand grazes her cheek.

“Hey,” he says, smiling brightly. She smiles back, but she looks sad and tired. She reaches out to touch his forehead, frowning.

“You are still burning up, Fjord,” she whispers, chewing nervously on her lower lip. She turns, addressing someone behind her, but before Fjord can hear what she’s saying he loses more time.

_The dragon stalks towards him, piercing eyes locked on Fjord. It smiles, cruel and delighted to have another meal, and Fjord braces himself for the moment it breaks him in half with its teeth._

_Instead, its head snaps towards someone else, its dark chuckle sending a shiver rippling down Fjord’s back. He follows the dragon’s gaze, stomach sinking when he sees the dragon stalking towards Jester, standing alone, trembling._

_“Wait! No!” Fjord tries to move towards her but a wall of fire erupts in front of him, and at first he thinks Caleb is stopping him, but it’s Beau’s fire elemental. Reddish orange flames, hot against his face, separate him from Jester. He calls out to her, telling her to run, but she doesn’t hear him; can’t hear him, and Fjord helplessly watches as she disappears behind the dragon’s bulk._

_He hears a scream..._

His eyes snap open and Fjord finds himself laying on his side on a small cot. Around him, he can hear various signs of snoring, and he slowly sits up, looking around the room. His friends are scattered across the floor asleep, with the exception of Caleb and Jester. They doze in uncomfortable positions in chairs next to his bed, Caleb’s coat covering Jester.

Fjord wipes sweat off his forehead, his groggy mind trying to piece together what happened. He’s tired and sore, and his mouth is dry and cottony. He sees a cup of water sitting near the bedside table and he reaches out with a shaky hand, picking it up.

He dribbles a lot down his front, but he manages to get a few sips. He replaces the cup, shaking stray droplets of water off his hand, and rubs the gritty sleep from his eyes. He pulls his hand back, studying the healing cut across his palm, and his eyes seek out Caleb.

His crossed arms are resting against his chest, head nestled on his shoulder at an awkward angle, chest moving up and down as he sleeps. Fjord can just make out the healing cut on his palm, an almost exact match to Fjord’s. He doesn’t know what he wants from Caleb, yet, nor does he know what Caleb wants from him, but he feels like something shifted between them. Something big.

He drops his hand into his lap, his gaze drifting to Jester. She has her nose buried in Caleb’s coat, her left hand loosely gripping the sleeve. Guilt settles in his stomach, hot and heavy; she nearly died. She nearly died alone and scared in that dragon’s lair, and had Nott not been there the rest of The Mighty Nein never would have known; wouldn’t have been able to go back for her body. She would have become another meal for that dragon. He could have lost her just like he lost Vandren; just like they all lost Molly.

Fjord isn’t used to having friends. Even the crew on The Tide’s Breath weren’t exactly his friends. They were friendly, more or less, and he had a few he could talk to, but before The Mighty Nein he didn’t have a lot of people in his life. He had Vandren, but he’s starting to realize he didn’t know Vandren nearly as well as he thought.

He needs them; all of them. It scares him how much he needs them. His eyes dart around the room, watching each of his friends. Nott a small lump buried under her cloak; Caduceus asleep near her, pink hair poking out from underneath a dark blanket; Beau, not too far from Jester, one hand reaching out for her just in case she needed an anchor; Yasha, sitting against the wall, hands resting on her stomach, sword not too far from her grasp.

His gaze settles on Jester and Caleb. He’ll never admit it, but he needs these two more than the others; both for vastly different reasons. Jester is his light; Caleb is his voice of reason. Both chaotic and bright in their own ways.

His friends.

He hears a soft, joyous laugh in his ear, and he smiles.

He doesn’t feel quite so alone right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh! You might recognize Fjord's nightmare from a story I wrote a while ago. It fit into the narrative and I figured it wouldn't hurt to put it in this story


End file.
